Sands of Darkness
by Azshiri
Summary: In a wish to keep ties with his twin brother, Illidan states life may be simpler if Tyrande Whisperwind did not exist. An old enemy, Xavius, has chained the Aspect of time, Nozdormu, in order to grant Illidan's wish for one purpose: The Burning Legion.
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: I do not own, claim to own any of the World of Warcraft Characters, including but not limited to Illidan Stromrage, Malfurion Stormrage, Tyrande Whisperwind, Lord Xavius, Queen Azshara, Nozdormu, or the Burning Legion. I do however, claim full rights to Azshiri/Azhi as she is mine and mine alone, though her race, status, and other character traits are based on Blizzard's property. Again, I do not own anything in here other than the plot, words, and Azhi. The owners are Blizzard and World of Warcraft._

**Prologue-Confessions**

_**Zin-Azshari, Glory of Azshara, Light of Lights, Flower of the Moon. So highly inaccurate terms…They have yet to see the fate of Suramar. They have yet to watch the tree spread her boughs over the tainted waters, yet to find the great tree replaced by yet another. They have not seen the Great Sea—the chasm that will soon hold the remains of Zin-Azshari. And as long as they stay blind, we will not fail.**_

She jerked awake, her pale eyes heavy with tears. Someone had tied her hair back and sat in the room while she slept. Who? She couldn't tell, she merely hoped the illness that had decided to root in her would fade soon. Her hopes faded as she tried to focus her vision, unable to see past the blur the herbs had induced earlier.

"You've still got quite the fever."

"I had heard…thought, maybe, that our kind could not draw ill…" she mumbled. The scuffling of feet nearby assured her that her speech was less than intelligible. The cool cloth brushed over her forehead and strong arms gently eased her back.

"Who…who are you?" she finally asked.

"Good to know you've already forgotten me, Azhi," it replied, teasing. The voice was male. That made it clear she wasn't in the Temple of the Moon. Lately, she had been told to stay away. Since her coronation as Princess of Zin-Azshari, her mother had kept her on a tight watch. At first she thought herself doomed to be a consort of the Satyr, Lord Xavius. Fortunately, her mother's jealousy saved her virginity and undoubtedly, her life.

"Hey, Azshiri, you in there?"

"Don't call me that!" she hissed. He laughed lightly.

"You dislike your birth name, then?"

"I detest you for even bringing it up, Illidan Stormrage."

His laughter filled the room. "Well, it's good to know you're still feisty. You've been sick for nearly two weeks now with little sign of improvement. Tyrande would have been here taking care of you but…" Illidan's voice trailed off.

"She went with Malfurion somewhere," Azhi finished. A grunt was more than enough confirmation. The past three seasons Illidan had been more than a little in love with Tyrande Whisperwind. Obsessive wasn't quite strong enough either…after being denied the right to apply for the Moon Guard, denied right to study further in the Art of Sorcery, and constantly failing to delve any further into Druidism than a trance, he had become sour. His mind was focused on getting the one thing he had left that he felt he deserved—Tyrande, and when Illidan set his mind to do something, he would do it or fail trying. Azhi feared the result, as she knew what it would be.

He was too focused on trying to gain her approval to actually try for her heart. Malfurion was too focused on becoming a druid to try for her heart, if he even understood he needed to try, and Tyrande was mortified on having to pick one or the other.

The hard fact was that Tyr would pick Malfurion and Illidan would be left waiting, searching.

"Azhi…I am finding it complicated to love my brother, and at the same time, complicated to dislike him at all."

"Complicated? That word choice makes it sound like you had a lover's spat."

"Maybe we did."

"You've got to be—"

"Yes Azhi, I am joking," he sighed, sitting back down on the bed next to her. "You need to start getting better. My mind is going bad."

Azhi tried to laugh but wound up coughing instead. "Going? I thought you'd determined a long time ago your mind was gone. It can't go bad if it isn't there."

"I wasn't…I wasn't joking, Azhi. I'm thinking things, acting on things, feeling things I shouldn't," he explained, balling his fist up and letting a red aura circle around it. "I've begun to think that things would be simpler if Tyrande wasn't around. For all three of us, really…I don't want her dead, don't even suggest that. But is this situation even partially fair to any of us? Mal's my twin brother…my other half."

"No, Illidan, it isn't fair to anyone. Being twins, you've shared everything from day one, including your first breath. Now, after five thousand seasons, sharing isn't so easy anymore. I don't know that I'd wish Tyrande away, but perhaps another suitor. Then you two could mope around together then move on."

Illidan growled and Azhi laughed. "If anyone else even tried to lay so much as a hand on her…"

"Elune will see to it that the best happens for her favored child, Illidan, and she'll guide the rest of her children if they ask. Try not to get too worried about it, would you?"

She began coughing again, harder, deeper. He sat her up and wiped her brow once more with the cool cloth, blind to the fact that Azhi could be his mate just as easily, perhaps moreso, than Tyrande. To gain the favor of the Princess would gain favor of the Queen, instant access into the Moon Guard, and power and glory for eternity.

In the next room, two hooves plodded towards the Queen's Court, their owner smirking as he tossed a bronze disk up and caught it with his other hand. _If things would be simpler without Tyrande Whisperwind for Illidan and Malfurion Stormrage, thwarters of the Master's plan, by all means, things need to be simpler. Certainly you agree, my dearest pet, Nozdormu._


	2. The Sign of Change

_Disclaimer: I still don't own any of the characters mentioned other than Azhi, who is not in this section, so all these characters, trees, areas, etc. belong to Blizzard and World of Warcraft. _

The chains rattled the same way as always, their mundane glow not flickering in the slightest as he shifted his legs. Never would he admit to anyone—_anyone—_that he had learned a great deal about where he had gone wrong, and why. He had been imprisoned for 3, 462 seasons, or years, as they now called it. His guests consisted of his jailor, Maiev Shadowsong, the occasional priestess, and his brother. Lately, his twin had been visiting in his Dream form as opposed to his physical body.

Illidan didn't complain about the lack of literal. His own way of seeing things had left literal far behind. Not only was the vision different, but so too was their relationship. Malfurion had become known as a hero even before Illidan had been imprisoned. At one point, Illidan credited this for his shortcomings. Illidan has been considered a hero briefly. Then he attained a greater stigma. Traitor.

He refused to back down on the outside, still clinging to the fact that he had not joined the Legion in order to be their loyal minion. He went to them and extended a few mild services in order to destroy them. His plan was a complete success, his planned results were…to put it mildly, complete failures.

And so his brother, Malfurion Stormrage, Archdruid and noble hero, got all the credit and glory. Illidan got body scars, a taint, and his eyes burnt out of his skull to be replaced with the very essence of his enemy's sight. Though he had not intended to even meet Sargeras, the gift bestowed upon him was the single thing he considered a complete victory.

"You're thinking far too much today, Betrayer," chided a voice from just beyond the roots-turned-bars. Illidan did not reply immediately, watching Maiev's colors change from red to a cold, dark purple. Her sect, the Watchers, had been charged with guarding none other than he.

_Amusing what pouring three vials of sparkling water into a lake can do, I must say. Brother, are you there? Malfurion?_

Silence. Illidan sighed internally, showing no sign of interest or lack thereof in Maiev's unlocking of his cage. He had been trying to get Malfurion's attention specifically in cases like this—Maiev was about to beat him until his empty eye sockets bled.

"Yes, you're thinking far, far, far too much. It is an improved behavior, certainly, that you actually think now but still…you've no sign of lost confidence. That needs to be fixed," she whispered, hoisting a club in her hand.

"Of course," he replied shortly. He was chained to the ground by his ankles and his wrists, though he could move rather freely around his cell. He was physically strong but Illidan's true power lay in his magic. Along with his true power rested his true prison. For 3,462 years, he had not even been permitted to conjure a cupcake. His permission to cast had been taken away not by Malfurion, not by Tyrande, not by Maiev, Elune, or Cenarius, but by all of them together. And several times already he'd gotten so very close to performing a spell again—only to be chastised by his brother and his limitations revamped.

This is what had taught him his true error was.

Illidan Stormrage knew he was addicted to magic before the War of the Ancients began. Now that it had passed, he knew it was worse than an addiction. It was the last tie he had to even caring about living. It wasn't his depending on people or power that had cost him, but his ever increasing need to use magic and let it course through his veins. Without it, he was little more than a sickly orphan on a battlefield.

The club slammed down on his ribs, jerking back up and slapping back down across his chest. He inhaled deeply, knowing the pattern she'd use today—when shaded with more purple than red, Maiev depended on rage and emotion, other days he knew she would follow protocol. But no one else could see her like he could. No one else could see _anything_ like he could.

Preparing for the club to pound into his gut, he exhaled, only to hear the clanging of the weapon next to him and Maiev's struggled breathing.

"What…you…what are you…" she hissed at him, collapsing before she could finish.

_Illidan! What is going on? I heard—Illidan? Illidan?_

Malfurion's voice was lost to Illidan's screaming as the very world around him began to shift. He watched the walls begin to curl into themselves, the Watchers scramble to figure out the source. He heard the deep cackling from someone distant, and felt his chains shatter, the metal cutting into his wrists. In desperation, he found himself leaning over Maiev's body as the roof began to collapse on them all, Nordrassil's roots digging deeper into the earth. The boulders began to pound on his back, Maiev slowly awakening to see him protecting her. There was no time for conversation or questions, however, as Illidan's glorious sight began to fade away. The burning he had felt when Sargeras had carved out his eyes returned tenfold.

Malfurion watched in horror from the Dream as his brother's very life force began to fade into a mist; a mist tainted bronze.

_Illidan!_


	3. The Truth of Change

_Disclaimer: Still don't own the characters, areas, Dreams, or such, it still belongs to Blizzard and the Warcraft Universe. And Azhi still has yet to show back up. She will though._

Needing to hurry while walking the Emerald Dream was useless. Forcing his body and current state to blend back together was nearly impossible when his emotions were so intense. Having had three chances to kill Illidan, two from a legal standpoint, one from pure anger, Malfurion knew one thing for sure. As much as they were different, bitter, and angry with one another, they were two halves of one coin. To take away one would ultimately destroy the other.

The most proof Malfurion could think of to verify his belief was when he and his brother combined their very souls and power into the Demon Soul and banished the Burning Legion from their ground. At times, they both believed they could do it alone. The truth, though, they knew. Kalimdor would no longer exist if they had not worked together unlike any other force could.

His Dream form was getting closer to returning, and despite what he had been taught, Malfurion rushed it along, afraid of what had happened. Reminding himself that things in the Dream could be merely illusions and that the whole episode could have been his heart desiring to see his twin, Malfurion finally got the two forms to connect and bond.

"Tyrande…please…need to get to the Hyjal Barrows…" he murmured, wiping sweat from his brow. Warm hands clasped his arm gently.

"What has Illidan done?"

"From what I saw, he saved Maiev's life and was crushed by the cave-in from the Barrows themselves. Unfortunately…I'm not sure it was just a vision from the Dream."

Tyrande's eyes lit up with fear and she called for their sabers. She lifted her bow to tie it to her back while they rode but instead, doubled over in agony. Malfurion caught her when her balance failed. "Tyr…are you okay?"

She nodded and pointed to the two black striped nightsabers running to them. "Go. I won't be separating the two of you again. Not in a case like this. If Illidan saved her, Malfurion, perhaps he's back, the real Illidan."

Malfurion's heart was torn. He loved and adored Tyrande and her stubborn compassion but really, he had wanted to have his brother more than her. Fate had picked for him—along with the taboo of brothers becoming mates—and this was something he had found himself at peace with until recently. With one glance, Tyrande also chose what Malfurion would do. He threw his leg over his personal saber and kicked it gently to usher it along.

"Elune be with you, both," Tyrande stated, laying back on the bed and denying the pain that was enveloping her. She felt her eyes grow heavy and decided that worrying about Malfurion and Illidan would be pointless. She pulled a blanket over her stomach and closed her eyes. After a deep breath and settling in, she knew a cold truth.

All the rivalries they had about her would shortly be gone; she would not be waking up.


	4. The Time for Change

_Disclaimer: I still don't own any of the Characters here. They belong to Blizzard and Warcraft. _

The Barrows were crushed. Even someone standing on the outside could see the depths of the prison were suddenly shallow. Malfurion's stomach churned and he grabbed his chest, feeling for his brother's presence.

_Illidan, are you there? Can you hear me?_

Something in the debris began to move. Malfurion quickly fell to his knees and furiously dug through the rubble, begging the gods to have spared his twin once more.

_If you find me…don't you dare look at me. You can get me out of this hellish place, but don't you dare look at me. I'll kill you if you even dare—shit!_

The little foundation left crumbled. Those rocks Malfurion had been digging through shifted drastically and he saw a bandaged, bruised hand attempt to grab something. He grabbed the hand and pulled it—and its owner—from the catastrophe.

"So…why can't I look at you?" he asked, shaken more by the destruction threatening them than anything his twin could say.

Illidan stared blankly at Malfurion a moment then shrugged. "I thought it was only me and my lovely home changing. Now that I look at you, I can't say I mind so much."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"Your antlers are nubs again, Malfurion. Someone is tweaking with time and he's cooperating, whether he wants to or not," Illidan explained. The sunlight pouring down upon them was agonizing. Not only were they both nocturnal, but the most light Illidan had seen in over three millennia was a candle. Combining that with his newly changed state made him somewhat longing for his prison cell again.

"Someone is stupid enough to…by the gods, Illidan…your eyes. They're…back."

"I am flattered, really," Illidan replied coldly. He flexed and clenched his fists a few times, making sure the wounds wouldn't affect his grip or ability to cast spells. If he chose to use spells again. Not having to depend on magic to prove his power was almost as exhilarating as when he first saw the Well of Eternity with his new sight. Of course, now his new sight was gone and his twin brother was gawking at him with shock.

Malfurion had almost questioned Illidan's sanity over the statement about someone tweaking with time. Then he saw his brother's eyes, bright amber once again, no scarring, no empty gap filled with a mist of fell energy. The flickering green body scars were gone from Illidan's chest and arms, the blindfold that had shielded his eye sockets now serving as a bandana. There was no doubt in Malfurion's mind that Illidan knew exactly what he was talking about and, judging by the scowl on his face, Illidan was not pleased with his new condition.

"Where did you leave Tyrande, brother?"

"…where did I leave…who?"

Illidan turned and glared at his twin, grabbing his jaw and seconds away from incinerating him, but he couldn't quite remember what Malfurion had done to infuriate him.

"What are you trying to fry me for?" Malfurion cried out, slapping Illidan's hands away. "All I wanted to know was what you were talking about!"

"Mal…what do you know of Cenarius?" Illidan asked. He let go of his brother and turned away from him. The reality of just how much they would lose—and had already lost—was uttered from his brother's lips.

"Cenarius…is the mythological Lord of the Forests…why do you ask?"

Illidan shook his head slowly, exhaustion from the final moments of knowing his life setting in. "Maybe he's real, and maybe we'll find him one day…I think, I think one day we should go look for him, you and I…real or not, there is something he is based on in our forests, and I want to see it…"

With those words, Illidan collapsed into his brother's lap. Malfurion caught Illidan then leaned his head upon the large tree root just behind him and nodded, too tired to say anything.

Above them, standing on the ridge, Nozdormu keened. He had seen thousands of times, thousands of ways for the times to play out, and he had written history before writing existed. This realm had finally met its course, unhindered by Deathwing's meddlesome antics, hinged on a solid foundation that couldn't be broken by those who wished time to change. As with so many things, Nozdormu knew why it had played out this way. He, Aspect of Time, had wished time to stay its course, and naturally, he would be the one forced to change it. If only this event would change little as opposed to every single detail the world had. Nozdormu sighed, the tag embedded into his chest lighting up when he considered disobeying. Stretching out his giant, leathery wings he descended down to the sleeping twins and lifted them up in his maw.

"At least thissss time round, Fate will not have to pick one of you over the other, mortal heroesss. Ssssuch a vile game it wasss when she chose the last time, now, at least, she'll have to throw her favorsss with a different lot."


	5. Awakening

_Disclaimer: I own Azhi! but no one else in here. All characters minus Skylari and Azhi are property of Blizzard and Warcraft, Skylari belongs to my friend often known as Morea, Azhi is mine. Also, the story is getting steamier as the night elves begin to figure out where they belong-if they belong. Without further stalling, here is Chapter 5._

"Wake up already!" she shrieked, pounding her fists into his back. "If my father comes in here and finds you passed out on top of me we'll both have hell to pay ten times! Wake up!"

"…wha—Azhi that hurts!"

"Get off of me! Now!"

Illidan didn't argue. As he hopped off the bed—and the Princess of Zin-Azshari—he began to wonder how he had come to be on top of her to start with. They both had on clothes. His pants were zipped and Azhi wasn't scrambling to brush her teeth. That meant no sex and no blowjobs; it also meant his story of passing out on her wasn't nearly as interesting as he had hoped.

"So what happened to you? First you were dabbing off my forehead complaining about the woes of life, then you were babbling about how things were changing and you couldn't keep up, then you did a faceplant into my breasts about five seconds after we got the call that Lord Xavius would be coming to check on me."

"I thought you said your father was coming, not that Satyr thing," Illidan grumbled. He let out a decent yawn and stretched his arms behind his back, eyeing Azhi as she attempted to walk for the first time in nearly three weeks.

"Panic makes you say strange things. Wash your fac—" she stumbled and was caught by a rough, furry red arm. Illidan had been ready to catch her but promptly shoved out of the way. He didn't comment; he merely watched Azhi's face flush when Lord Xavius sat her on the bed.

"You'd be wise to stay resting, Azshiri," he growled. Xavius was not hostile towards her, firm, but gentle at the same time. Illidan suspected it was because Xavius had a great interest in marrying Azhi that he gave her different attention than anyone else, save the Queen. Xavius' voice was always a growl. It fit his personality a little too well. The thick, sturdy legs he walked on were covered in fur and tipped with dark, onyx hooves. His eyes flickered somewhere between fire red and the same black as his feet, while his upper torso was oddly the same complexion as most of the Night Elves. His fur covered everything from his waist down and the backs of his forearms. Two long, large horns jutted from his brow and curved back ever so slightly. He had a slight goatee, the same scarlet tone as the rest of his fur and neatly trimmed black hair.

Xavius looked over Illidan with displeasure but said nothing hateful. "You've been watching her and called the moment her fever broke?"

"Yes sir, Lord Xavius," Illidan replied, bowing stiffly. He knew what Xavius was thinking. Illidan was a Kal'dorei—one of the _commoners_—and worth little time of the Highbourne. Even less worthy were the Kal'dorei of the Princess and Queen. Illidan practiced sorcery and did exceedingly well. In fact, he surpassed most of the senior sorcerers within a week or two of studying with them. Sorcery, however, was an art for the Highbourne, not the lowly Kal'dorei. After that two weeks of training with them, Illidan realized that the Moon Guard would never accept him. Three more weeks of being bullied and threatened and he had dropped the studies altogether. His life was more important than learning from them, even if it meant he would have to continue searching for where he belonged.

"Kind of you to care for her while her priestess was away. Do take your well-earned leave now," Xavius stated.

"Lord Xavius! He helped me where she couldn't…don't shoo him off just because you don't like him. Give him something! Please? For my sake?" Azhi questioned, grabbing Xavius' left wrist. He clenched his fist tightly, but nodded to her.

"What would you have me give him, then?" he snarled through clenched teeth. Illidan bit his lip to hide a smirk.

Azhi pulled out her charms and placed her hand on her chin, mock thinking. After an exaggerated sigh and a few seconds of twirling her forefinger through her green hair, she nodded. "I think, dear Xavius, the best you can give him is a good word to the Moon Guard. Or perhaps a threat against them should they…find him a toy. I'd hate for us to have to replace even more of those pathetic…"

"Enough. I'll see that the Guard leave him be. Watch your tongue, young Princess," Xavius growled once more, bowing to her then exiting quickly as though something else was heavy on his mind.

"What was that all about?"

"No clue. Satyr are weird like that," Azhi giggled. In truth, she did know exactly why Xavius had left without causing anymore conflicts. Further still she knew why he avoided conflicts with her—and to his credit, avoided inflaming tempers around those who would gladly give out more information than they needed to. Certain family secrets needed to stay secrets.

"Do you like him?" Illidan suddenly quipped. He was focusing on his reflection in one of the many mirrors in Azhi's room. He could see her sitting behind him with her mismatched facial markings, long green hair with black tips, smooth, pale purple skin, intricately woven long white dress with jewels everywhere, accented curves that didn't need accents to entice. Illidan tried not to show his jealousy; his lower body was failing to cooperate.

"Sometimes I do. Sometimes I want to punch his face into a wall. He's tolerable though. Why do you ask?"

"You…just let him get away with more around you than you would me or Malfurion…or even Skylari. I just figured…maybe you thought he could be your—"

"No, Illidan, he's not in the potential mate for Azhi category. Use a bit of logic though. He's my mother's—_Queen Aszhara's_—Lord of Council. Since you aren't really around the palace much, I guess you don't see what her temper can do. I've seen her execute handmaidens on the spot for touching her. I tolerate more from Xavy dear because he reports to her," Azhi explained, staring at Illidan through the mirror. For a moment, Illidan thought her eyes were amber like his, but realized it was likely him looking back and forth between their faces.

"I think you'll be clear to get out now, if you'd like to leave."

Illidan nodded briefly then turned to face her. "Thank you for the word…but I could handle them. You need to stay well. I miss you sneaking out."

"I see this," she giggled, pointing at his pants. Illidan flushed and walked to the door more than happy to not discuss his reactions. "Illidan…try not to worry about competition, would you? I've got my mind made up; I've just got to get the right permissions to act on it."

He didn't respond—his head was in the clouds. And Xavius had kept his word; the Moon Guard didn't even sneer at the boy as he walked out of the palace, out of Zin-Azshari, and down to Suramar.

Upon arriving at his house, Illidan suddenly snapped back into reality. The doors were all open, and Malfurion, his twin, was nowhere to be seen.


	6. Twins

"This wasn't the best planned place for a nap…" Malfurion muttered. He ran his hands through his long green hair before looking around to get his bearings. He had no clue how he had come to be sitting in the middle of a forest inhibited only by a few large, stone pillars, but he knew he had to get home as soon as possible. Illidan would be home soon and it was almost time for dinner. Talented as his brother was with fire, Illidan could not cook to save his life.

_Where the hell are you, Mal?_

_I thought you'd be home soon…and I'm not sure. I don't remember leaving the house and I certainly don't remember sitting down next to a tree for a nap. I'll get there as soon as I can, okay? Don't freak out and try not to set anything on fire. I'll cook you a meal before I do anything else._

_I can cook for myself and you—_

_Illidan. I'll fix supper as soon as I get there._

_Fine. Just fine._

The connection weakened between them. Illidan was more than a little annoyed with his twin. Malfurion let the conversation go, determined to get back before they had to replace the house. Illidan's agreement to wait would last an hour at the most. Then only Elune could keep the house from burning down—not that Malfurion lacked faith in Elune, he just had more faith in his twin's pyromania.

_Illidan, you have any idea which direction I am in comparison to the house?_

…_you're that lost? _Illidan replied, less annoyed and more concerned.

_Yeah…yeah I am. Do we have ruins of temples near our house?_

_Malfurion, stay exactly where you are. I'm coming to find you. Don't move!_

_Illidan wait! _Malfurion was too late. His twin stood next to him, obviously having teleported to his side. "I wasn't sure you'd think enough to portal, glad to see you did."

"Thanks, Mal, ever so much," Illidan grumbled, punching his brother's shoulder. Malfurion shrugged and continued examining their surroundings. The place seemed familiar enough, the etchings somewhat like those in the Suramar temple.

"My mind wants to make sense of this…maybe it was a temple that never got finished?"

"Could be, but that doesn't explain the rubble," Illidan replied, running his hands over the stones in front of them. As soon as he realized his excited lower half had yet to calm down, he determined to keep his back to Malfurion. Less conversation on that issue was better, despite the discomfort.

"Point…and all the symbols which would be for Elune are suns instead, otherwise it's the exact same pattern as our own temple. And I already noticed how hard you are, so you don't have to hide it," Malfurion stated. He watched Illidan slowly turn towards him, face flushed. "Azhi likes you, I take it."

Illidan sighed and shook his head. "It's more me liking her than her liking me. She's just as prone to tease as her mother, you know."

A short nod and averting his attention back to the ruins informed Illidan that Malfurion was unhappy—at least displeased with the situation. What concerned him was why. Malfurion couldn't be jealous of him—Azhi had made it more than clear on the two occasions she'd met Mal that he was weak and would do well to stay in the dirt he belonged. Unless Malfurion had some strange desire to dominate those that insulted him, Azhi was the least likely subject of jealousy.

It could be that he wanted Illidan to choose someone nicer. Admittedly, Azhi was a prick and insulted Malfurion's very path of life. To the Kal'dorei, a mate was much more than a statement of class and power. It was finding someone and sharing your very life essence with that person forever. Choosing just anyone over lust, or even love, was frowned upon. Even when considering a life partner one had to acknowledge the thickest, strongest, most valid tie of all. Blood.

For Illidan to be considering Azhi—his manhood certainly was—could be a direct insult to Malfurion's existence. However, when confronted by the Highbourne and their snotty opinions towards the Kal'dorei, Azhi would tolerate nothing. Illidan had seen her stand up to Azshara and Xavius over the matter. Her insults were most likely a front she kept to keep distance. Azhi was a strange creature; moody too. Chances were she thought of Malfurion as a friend and insulted him to test his loyalty to her.

The last valid option for Illidan's twin to be suddenly silent and bitter was that Malfurion really had no interest in anyone. Or that he had interests and no response for them. If it was based on the last option, Illidan could really only feel sorry for his brother. He couldn't find the right mate for his twin. He could offer advice, sure, but the true work stayed in Malfurion's hands.

…_narcissistic to think of my twin that way…that and illegal…_

"What was that thought?" Illidan asked. He hadn't noticed the connection until Malfurion's thoughts began to counter his own.

"…nothing. That thought was nothing."

"I'd call you narcissistic now, having thoughts about me and not sharing," Illidan teased.

Malfurion blushed and walked a short distance away. "I was thinking about you the way you were thinking about Azhi," he stated, motioning down. Illidan's face went blank.

"You…wh-what?"

"I was having thoughts about having sex with you," Malfurion growled back.

"Are you serious? That is illegal!"

Illidan bit his lip when he saw just how serious his brother was. Hurting Malfurion was one of his least favorite things to do.

"I told you that thought was nothing," Malfurion finally replied. He began to walk further away from Illidan, who quickly grabbed his arm.

"Mal, I didn't mean—"

Malfurion jerked Illidan into a tight, rough kiss. After a moment, he let him go and turned away again. "Didn't mean to?"

Illidan's train of thought had broken. He'd never been kissed before, but he was anxious to try it again. "Mal…"

The situation was supposed to throw Illidan into a rant. Then both of them would understand to find sexual interest in a sibling was wrong, insulting and awkward. Instead, Malfurion needed Illidan to ask for more; Illidan wanted Malfurion to act on his own will. It resulted in Illidan staring at Malfurion's back—both of them too confused and motivated to know exactly what to do next.

"We should get home…and eat dinner," Malfurion finally stated, eliciting a growl from his twin. The muttering in strange, detached syllables was answer enough. A portal opened just behind him and he turned to go through without further mention of their kiss. Illidan caught his arm again.

"You aren't going to tease me like this. As soon as supper is done, we're going to solve this. If you won't cooperate…I'm going to solve it for both of us."

Illidan shoved Malfurion through the portal before any questions could be asked, following closely.


	7. Family Ties

_**Author's Note**-Zaeldra, the person Xavius tells to leave Azhi alone, will not be elaborated on much in this story until much later. If you would like to learn more about her and why she wound up inside Azhi, I will be posting her story, **Deceit and Illusion**_, _after I get a little more written on it. As for why Azhi asks Xavius if she can call him "dad," for Azshara to have a child out of wedlock and the mate be a mere Council would be so degrading. And for anything to degrade the perfection of Azshara...bad stuff. Also, a word of warning, the next chapter is smut. If you don't like yaoi, you can skip the next chapter and lose none of the plot, as the next Chapter will cover anything missed then._

_**Disclaimer-**I still don't own anything but Azhi, Zaeldra and the plot.  
_

"Don't you dare come near me! I'll kill you! You heard me you bitch! I'll kill you! I'll rip you to shreds and throw the ribbons of your corpse around like confetti! I'll use your intestines to decorate my room! And if he moves towards me I'll make him ashes! I'll kill you both! And I'll use your corpses as examples for why no one messes with me!"

Xavius sighed and motioned for the handmaiden and noble to back out of the room. His long tail twitched around as he considered his options. This was not part of his plan. Azhi wasn't supposed to come back to life. It was one thing to change the tides of time. To change the path of death, to alter life…that was a sin even Xavius couldn't tolerate. And now he'd gone and done it. He knew firsthand what it felt like to be revived from the dead. As Azhi flailed around the room, throwing furniture, candles, and intending to set the palace on fire, he could tell she never felt the pain physically. It was boiling up inside her emotionally.

And if something wasn't done soon, physical pain would be felt for anyone that Azhi deemed worthy.

Xavius had to act. After he was sure the two triggers had been removed from the princess' sight, he eased in the door. Her tirade had moved on; instead of throwing chairs, she was now shredding the curtains with a dagger.

"If you dislike your room this much, Azshiri, you could ask for a new one."

"You…get out!"

"Make me," Xavius replied shortly. Azhi threw a chair at Xavius who deflected it easily with an arcane shield. "Now that you've exhausted your weaponry—I'd advise you don't attack me with that dagger, I'd hate to hurt you—we should talk."

Considering attacking quickly left Azhi's mind as she eyed the sharp claws on each of Xavius' hands. She knew she could use the dagger to get what she wanted, she just had to determine how. The way she casted spells was highly inefficient. She certainly didn't have time to carve out an inscription and had no inks to even try. Throwing the dagger at him would be a waste of the dagger; his arcane shields would easily shove it aside. Dropping the weapon was the wisest choice, but it affronted her pride and no one, _no one,_ would assault her pride because she was weak. Watching him move ever closer to her, Azhi growled. Her hand tightened on the silver hilt; her sweaty palms clenching over the diamond. She could go with her first option and attack him, suffering defeat intelligently.

_Azshiri…don't give him the benefit of beating you…Don't let him beat you in combat. Don't lose a battle you could win at least part of by giving in._

"No! I will not give in to him! I can beat him!" she cried as the dagger fell from her hands. Xavius swiftly recovered the weapon and pushed her backwards into the only remaining chair.

"Zaeldra, leave her be…" he mumbled. Azhi glared at him, her eyes flickering between the pale silver purple and bright amber gold. Xavius placed his palm on Azhi's forehead and quickly chanted several arcane binding spells, intensifying the emblem on her left cheek.

She began to mutter in Demonic, as he had suspected, and fell into a comatose state that would last all of fifteen minutes. That gave Xavius enough time to collect his thoughts and figure out exactly what his objectives were now that his daughter had been revived.

_Why. Why did I have to go and change the cards dealt by Death. Foolish. Foolish! Of all the things I could have done wrong, this! And now my entire perspective is changing. Changing against the Legion, fighting against the sole purpose I broke out of the Nightmare. I am denying the very reasons I cheated Death twice by cheating it again! It's worse than heresy, it goes against even my moral standards, and I have none!_

Xavius sighed. In his future, before he had altered it so delicately, Azhi had died. The 'illness' was really a Demon that had eaten her from the inside out and killed itself in the process. Azshara, her mother, lost the little sense she had upon seeing her daughter not only die, but seemingly rot while she was still alive. It was then that beauty and perfection overwhelmed all of Azshara's senses, taking her to the extremist level of wanting the perfect husband to accent herself.

The Demon's name was Zaeldra, and had been less than prepared to take the host as her own, killing both shell and shelled. Zaeldra had been doing her task—just several thousand years in advance. Neither of them were ready, and it had cost them their lives and purpose in the world.

Which drew a question to Xavius' mind that he had yet to consider. Why had Nozdormu allowed her to live again? Xavius had requested to take time back to a certain point, not to revive the dead or manipulate forces more than necessary. He did take time back to before they started opening the portal, but was that really…It was. Azhi had died sixth months before they began to try and bring the Legion in.

Perhaps Azshara wasn't the only one distraught by her death. Perhaps Xavius too had been upset, and perhaps that was why he thought the Legion could save them. There was no time to ponder emotions and the former past. Now he had not only the power to change time, but the power to change his own fate.

And if there was anything he would change, it would be how he dealt with Malfurion Stormrage.

"Xavius…is…anyone around?"

"No, Azshiri, it's only us."

"Can I…call you…?"

"If you wish," he replied shortly, feeling his throat tighten. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head into the fur on his shoulder, sobbing.

"Daddy, I had the worst nightmares ever…I thought I was trying to hurt you Daddy, that you were trying to hurt me. I thought I was dying…"

Xavius responded against the nature he had developed over the past ten thousand years. He hugged Azshiri tightly, biting his lip as his eyes began to water. He had no words to offer her and the only comfort he could manage was to whisper, "Azshiri, you're here now, you're not dead, you're not dying…"

Repeating the words over and over, Xavius' analytical mind shut down. For the first time in ten millennia, he cared about someone other than himself.


	8. Family Knots

_Author's Note-You do not have to read this if you dislike yaoi. The next chapter will cover any information needed. _

The fish was dry. So very, very dry. Malfurion had kept his mouth shut since they had arrived home, fixing fish with an apple marinade, basted with cream and barley, then simmered in the oven. Being preoccupied, he forgot to add the extra oil and water to keep the fish from losing flavor. It had plenty of flavor—in fact, it had so much flavor that every bite he took became harder and harder to chew. He was getting to the point of wanting to spit it out and have Illidan use the remainder as target practice for his pyroblast. His twin, he suddenly noticed, had already finished his meal and was shoveling out seconds.

Or, rather, shoveling them in his mouth. Casting made Illidan hungry. Viciously hungry. When Illidan got hungry there was nothing to stop him from finding a meal, even if said meal was wretchedly overcooked fish.

"Just how much more do you want, Illidan?" Malfurion asked, pushing his plate away.

Illidan stopped mid-bite and looked at his brother curiously. "You're not going to eat that?"

"I personally find it disgusting, so no. In fact, I'm not sure I can swallow what I've got in my mouth. No, you want—"

The screech of fork on plate and Illidan resumed devouring the meal. Malfurion sat back and watched, sipping tea casually as Illidan inhaled the remnants of the fish.

"You need to cook more often, Mal."

"I'm not your wife despite cooking, cleaning, and tending the house. And Illidan, just how often do you cook?"

"Never, because you won't let me."

"Because you set the house on fire the last time you tried!" Mal exclaimed, slamming his mug on the table. He wasn't really angry at Illidan, he was just suffering through the food and disappointment of cooking a nasty tasting entrée. If anything, Illidan made the failure tolerable.

"Calm down," Illidan mumbled. He wiped his mouth with his shirt, disregarding the napkin. Illidan then pulled off his shirt and tossed it into the laundry pile. "Don't want to cook anyway. I'd rather eat without the effort."

"The only thing you put effort into, Illidan, is magic," Malfurion retorted.

"I disagree. See, I've figured out a solution to our problem," Illidan stated, ignoring Mal's comment. "The only remaining question is who dominates."

Malfurion went stiff. Illidan was suggesting something he'd thought about for a while. In fact, Illidan was more than suggesting. "I don't think that really required any effort…"

"Effort, instinct, same difference. You started it."

"Actually, Azhi started it."

Illidan laughed, obviously nervous and excited about the circumstances. His hands went to his sash and began to untie it. Malfurion stood and quickly stopped him with a deeper, more passionate kiss than they had shared at the ruins. Several minutes passed before Malfurion pushed Illidan backwards and motioned towards his room.

"…not on the table, that's crude…" he murmured.

Illidan blinked several times before he realized he wasn't being rejected, but relocated. Both of their faces were flushed and Illidan's waistband was nearly at his knees. Recovering from the shock of being stopped, Illidan walked into his twin's room and eased into the bed. Malfurion was quickly on top of him, biting his neck and licking the knots as they came up. Illidan groaned and tangled his fingers in Mal's hair. He felt his legs move apart and Mal's fingers gently rubbing him. A moment of fear caught him and lit his body with panic until Malfurion's lips gently closed over his penis. The panic melted into bliss, soon turning into ecstasy.

It felt as though his brother had been created for the sole purpose of pleasing him, and he, being the twin, was created only to please his brother. The tender hands stroking his stomach and the tongue flickering around his member made the world blur above him. The pounding heartbeat in his head floated away when he heard the ruffle of clothing being removed. Malfurion entered him slowly, pulling back and easing back in to reduce the pain and tension of stretching.

Illidan winced as the thrusting began, harder and faster. Amidst the pain, the bliss arose again, his body tight, not tense. His mind shunned the pain away as heated streams shot from Malfurion up inside him. His heart pounded faster as he clasped his hands on his twin's shoulders, begging in gasps for more. Even being emasculated and dominated, he felt like he could control the world. Malfurion did not resist pleasing Illidan further. His mouth found his partners and his teeth sunk into the lower lip. He felt Illidan's body shudder under him and the bite quickly returned.

Malfurion knew he would release again soon and pulled out of his brother to retain a little bit of tact. Illidan, however, had no plans to stop and little concern for where Mal's bodily fluids went, so long as they were on him. Malfurion felt Illidan's hands grab his buttocks and pull him close. Then Illidan began to lick his member, teasing the last remainder of Mal's polite refusal out onto his lips.

"Illidan! Don't!" he gasped, tightening up. Illidan's bright amber eyes looked up at him, a smirk on his face.

"You're holding back on me, Mal…stop that. I'd hate to have to bite you."

Malfurion's eyes widened as Illidan grazed his teeth over his phallus, still looking up. "Don't you dare…"

Illidan's hand clasped his twin firmly and began rubbing back and forth, his tongue flickering over the tip. Not three minutes passed before Malfurion lay on his brother's chest taking deep breaths. Illidan ran his fingers through Mal's hair and took in the smells, breathing slowly and feeling sleep come over him even though the moon was rising.

"I'm not sure if I love you or hate you right now, Illidan."

"I'm not sure if you love me or hate me right now either, but...either way, be sure to do it more often."


	9. Family Fears

_*****authorly note! I am sorry it took so long to update! I had midterms, some personal issues, and a mild writer's block! However, I should be back into the swing of things and will try to make up for lost time! no more stalling! Enjoy, and note that some new characters are introduced here!*****_

Illidan woke up slowly, much like he had fallen asleep. Malfurion was still on top of him, the sheets were still pretty damp, and a chill had set over the room—the only contrast from the heated passion they had shared a few hours ago. Something, however, felt off. Illidan looked around the room trying to see or smell just what it was when he heard laughter. At least, he thought he did. As soon as he tried to focus in on the sound, it was gone and the room was silent except for his and his twin's breathing. Passing the thoughts of as exhaustion or lust-induced insanity, Illidan began to stroke Mal's hair.

"So impressionable you are, Malfurion Stormrage…and all too caring for anyone's good. I'll kill you if you ever change…" Illidan whispered, twirling a thick green lock around his thumb. Malfurion tightened his grip around Illidan's waist, still soundly asleep. " And I'm beginning to think you could make a career out of sleeping."

"Siffy, siffy, siffy…"

Illidan jumped. The voice wasn't in his head this time—there was no doubt he _heard _the young girl with a strange accent mocking him. But if she wasn't just in his head as a side-effect of the night, who was she? More importantly, where was she? And exactly what did she know?

"Who are you?" he asked, ignoring the slur in his voice as the giggling started up again.

"You don't remember me cause we haven't met yet. But we wiff, and you'ff never forget me then. Never, ever, Iffidan."

And as though nothing had happened, the entire room went silent again. Illidan sat up, nearly dumping his twin on the floor.

"Wake up already!" he hissed, shaking Malfurion by the shoulders. Malfurion responded by slapping Illidan across the face and pulling the blankets over his chest.

"The hells did I do to you!"

"Someone is in here. Someone is _watching _us. A girl! Watching us!"

"You've got to be kidding…" Malfurion replied. "Is it Skylari? Or Azhi? We have a chance at maintaining a reputation or two with the general public if it is…though it'll put a huge dent in our personal lives being anything above miserable…"

"She said I don't remember her because I have yet to meet her. But I won't forget her once we do meet. It's like we're being stalked by some five-season-old genius psychopath!" Illidan growled as he pulled on a pair of pants that looked as though they could use washing. He then jerked his hair up into his typical ponytail and stumbled to the door. He was determined to find the trespassing child and save both he and his brother from unwanted humiliation.

Malfurion caught his arm and tugged him back in the house. "Calm down, first off. Secondly, it's raining outside and you need a vest and boots in the very least. Lastly, maybe you are just tired and need some rest."

"I tried! I tried to get rest! And she kept taunting me with that annoying giggle of hers!"

"Okay…I believe you. Until I hear her, or until someone else does, she's no threat though, right? She can't tell someone something if they don't know she's there. Come back inside, Illidan, and I'll fix us both some tea. Going outside midday is not going to help your case for sanity. We'll find her together after we've had enough rest to actually go on an adventure."

"But—fine. But it better be Peacebloom tea or I'm not drinking it."

* * *

Azshara sat in a golden chair rimmed with rubies and emeralds, tolerating her newest handmaiden, Vashj, to do her hair. The girl was pretty enough, long blonde locks with delicate curls, a firm brow and slender nose. Vashj's skin was a nice rosy purple and her body mildly curvaceous. She was beautiful indeed, but a hideous beast compared to the glory and beauty of Queen Azshara. Azshara had long, silky, silvery hair that framed her pale purple face perfectly. Just enough strands fell over her amber eyes to intensify their gaze.

"Now, now, little lady, do be careful with those ties. We don't want to be putting too many or too few in. Try to make sure the bows are all equal in width, height, and that the ribbons all glisten the same in the light," Azshara cooed. Vashj smiled brightly, honored to be able to dress her queen. Azshara smiled gently back at her through the mirror, nearly causing the poor girl to melt. Vashj suppressed a grin and focused her energies on perfecting the already perfect hairstyle of her queen.

The sound of frustrated hooves pounding down the hallway ended the pleasant salon moment as Azshara turned to the door just before Xavius slammed it open.

"Lord Counselor, I am—"

"Her fever broke, and she's actually doing quite well," Xavius stated curtly, cutting off Azshara's statement. A cold, fierce glare melted when the 'she' of the statement clicked in Azshara's mind.

"Azshiri is…healthy?" she asked, her voice shockingly shaky. Lady Vashj quickly excused herself along with the other handmaidens and the single servitor guarding the door.

Xavius nodded and shut the door behind the fleeing servants with his hoof, then walked up to Azshara and turned her around in her chair. "Yes, _our daughter _is extremely healthy, and she has no idea that, at one point, she was dead. And you, for once, can get over yourself long enough to go see her. That girl was ruining your hair with her drool anyway."

Azshara clicked her tongue twice then returned to looking at herself in the mirror, secretly checking to see if any drool had gotten in her hair. "I'll see her when she gets out of the ward, then, and you, Lord Xavius, will leave me be."

"No," he stated defiantly. Azshara glared at him through the mirror, small silver tendrils flickering around her as he straightened his back.

"You know, Azshara that I have little fear of your power and little respect for your snotty attitude. Especially when it comes to our daughter. Need I remind you how that daughter was made? That you and I started with a nice cup of Pinot, then a couple of bottles, then we began to kiss, and you slowly placed your finger on my lips and stated, 'This time, Xavius, the royal bed,' and there we had sex for the thirty-fifth time, and there you got pregnant. Do I need to keep going, Azha?"

"Silence!" she hissed. Her face was flushed with anger and embarrassment and her mood fouler than when he had stormed in. "You talk of it like it's nothing to you. Is it?"

"When you—in private—deny me, I tend to think less of you. When you treat the child you birthed by my seed as little more than a personal servant, I think nothing of you."

The red, angry glow faded from her face slowly. She took in a few deep breaths and finally turned to her undeniable mate. "And is such a thought one that leaves you?"

"It does. You will come visit Azshiri now?" he asked, acknowledging Azshara with a short bow. She smiled and nodded, extending her hand to be helped up. Habit and custom combined compelled Xavius to lift her up by her arm and kiss her cheek lightly. Before he could throw up any defenses, her lips were on his and a _click_ behind the pair gave a clear message of what Queen Azshara wanted. And what Queen Azshara would have.

Even if Xavius overpowered her physically and magically, she was perfect at the art of seduction.

* * *

Azhi sat in her bed more than aware of what her mother and father would be doing and giggled to herself at her father's last comment before he had run off to fetch the Queen.

"_I'll go stop her from whatever she's doing and make her come see you this instant. She's been worried and I won't let her pull anything on me until after she's seen you well. After all, even she's said you are more important than she is."_

"But of course, daddy," Azhi giggled, tossing her feet over her covers and eyeing the window. "Because mom has never pulled anything on you. And of course, mom would never consider her own interests in celebration before seeing to it that I am well. She's not afraid of sickness at all, or anything like that."

Upon her comments to no one in particular, Azhi decided that waiting around while her parents screwed around was the last thing she wanted to do. Snatching up a piece of paper and some ink, she jotted a note that she would be elsewhere but would certainly return home in the next couple of days or if she felt ill. Signing it and decorating the letter with a few hearts and flowers, Azhi pulled on an overcoat, her boots, a pair of gloves, and a hood. Then she pulled her curtain open and crawled through the window, falling almost twelve feet but landing gracefully. Taking in a deep breath, she snuck around the guards, down a corridor that was rarely used, and out the back of the palace.

Exhaling slowly, she pulled the hood back and ran her fingers through her hair. Being outside was refreshing and somehow, getting away from the Well of Eternity made her feel more energetic as opposed to irritable or nauseated. Everyone else she commonly associated with wanted to be closer and closer to the well every day. She, on the other hand, only wanted to watch it change and churn, touch the waters a few times, then leave it behind.

Regardless of the Well itself, she felt more at peace outside next to a moonwell with her back arched and her face towards the fading sun. Her lightweight sundress fluttered softly as the wind around her picked up. Searching the horizon for a reason, she found nothing. Instead, she found a foot wrapped several times with linen and a pair of loose, leather pants tucked into the top of them.

"Should you really be sneaking out right after you almost died, Azhi?"

"Should you have sex with your twin and pretend it didn't happen?"

A solid plop next to her and a heavy sigh preceded Illidan's comment. "It's not that obvious, is it…"

Azhi looked at him and suppressed a grin. "If you'd try to blush less, accept it, and not talk about it like it's the worst thing you could have done? Nah, it's not obvious at all. If you act like you are right now? You look like you just got caught suckling a horse tit. So yeah, right now, it's obvious."

"Dammit, Malfurion…" Illidan replied, lost in his own thoughts. He couldn't argue that it was rape—he'd enjoyed every minute of sex with Malfurion he'd had, and he craved more. But he didn't want Malfurion to be his mate. He liked him enough to screw with him frequently, but they were _twins. _If he could have Mal at his side in every minute and still be able to become someone else's mate, that was what he wanted. Illidan had no issue sharing Malfurion with other people. After all, he'd had him first.

"You think because you've used your easiest, best resource that you are less valuable?"

"No! I just…people are going to judge me if you can just tell right off that we actually fucked. I mean, it's not something we broadcasted, and it's not like we act out on it in public! It only happened last night and I had no idea he even liked me in that sense…so…so there!"

"You were the bitch, weren't you," she asked. Illidan's face grew ten shades darker still and he turned away from her, immediately crossing his arms over his chest.

"…yes. You won't tell anyone."

"Wasn't planning on it. Besides, your attitude, limp, and facial expression says a hell of a lot more than I could ever say. But…if it makes you feel better, I think it's beautiful that the two of you shared such a moment together."

Illidan turned and glared at Azhi coldly before he realized what she had said. Then he resumed staring at the moonwell and sighed. "Beautiful, you say. I have anal sex with my twin brother and you think it's pretty."

"When you say it like that I want to drown you! What I mean is that you and Mal are so close you had to find a new way to show affection for each other, so it's almost like you consummated your brotherhood! Not…whatever. Why are you out here anyway? Shouldn't you be at home with him…?"

"Well…I had this weird dream thing…I thought I was awake, but the more I try to analyze it, the less likely it seems it really happened. I just thought we were being watched…and he didn't think we had been, but he didn't really mind either. After breakfast, tea, and another conversation, he told me to go get fresh air. And so I wound up here. You? Shouldn't you be recovering?"

Azhi smiled and laid back in the grass. "I am recovering. My parents are currently having sex right now though, and I just wanted out of the house. Hard to recover with those noises just three rooms over."

"Your…parents? I thought you said your dad had left the palace after…" Illidan suddenly asked, his thoughts rerouted onto the safer, more interesting track. Azhi blushed and turned away from him.

"…you know how yesterday, you asked me if Lord Xavius was on my potential husband list? And I said no?"

"Yeah, I was relieve—wait…"

"Well…um…he's not on the potential husband list because…well, Illidan? Xavius is my dad."


	10. Discoveries and Discord

_*****Author's Note***** Skylari actually belongs to a friend, and is her level 70 druid at the moment and one of our main RP sources, from which most of this story comes from. This section begins to introduce some love triangles and other types of family issues than taboo love/romance. And the same disclaimer stays, I don't own anything but Azhi, plot, and in this story, Zaeldra, Xavlen, and language spoken that doesn't make a lot of sense is Eredun, or the language of the Eredar (such as Kil'jaeden, Archimonde, Velen, and the general language spoken by the Burning Legion.)  
_

_One last thing before you read on! Any guesses on who the baby of the pregnant priestess might be? Hint! It's a girl! _

Skylari drummed her fingers on her thigh as she waited for the initiation ceremony to end. She was relieved that new priestesses would be joining Elune and, at the same time, annoyed that she would be one of the ones in charge of overseeing their training. Wanting to distract her mind from the frustration of having to teach rituals, prayers, mantras, songs, and proper stances, she began to focus on the statistics of how many initiates would stay for a week.

Skylari looked them over, a gentle, warm smile hiding her calculations. The first lot to the altar seemed pretentious at best. The tallest girl—the one that stood out—however, looked as though she would make it past not only the first week, but ultimately wind up a potential High Priestess. Her name was Shadowsong. Skylari couldn't remember her first name, but she was pleased to see another girl with white hair joining the ranks.

The next group was the typical, sent from home on a pilgrimage, trying to stay out of trouble crowd. The third girl looked pregnant, but dedicated to her cause. The others looked like their mothers and fathers had thrown them out in the rain and pointed towards the temple. Clueless.

Upon deeper observation, Skylari realized the third girl in the row not only looked pregnant, but she _was_ pregnant. Extremely. The way she walked made it seem that her water had already broken, and that she was using sheer willpower to hold the child in.

Then, as the ceremony began to unfold, Sky had to catch her breath to stop from gasping. The initiates removed their hoods, bowed to their goddess, and turned for approval. The girl in the second lot smiled weakly at her before walking out to be judged worthy or not.

The girl was Skylari's mother.

* * *

"_What the hell were you thinking! Actually trying to interact with future times!"_

"_Buuuut Mada! Mada, you does interact!"_

"_I do only because it is my job! It's what mada gets paid to do!"_

"_Mada no get paid at all! Mada is not worker! She be do work with bada!"_

"_And I also disagree with you manipulating time—especially the time in the future of worlds that yet belong to us. And you, Lyla'mna varudesh Zaeldra'mna, are too connected in that time for us to continue this discussion while you hold the point. Later. I'll discipline her."_

"_Azshiri'nga madru'ashavri calvatoreh…"_

"_Ziendra, come. I've no time to walk back and forth between you and Xavlen."_

"Azhi, wake up already!"

Azhi shook her head and pried her eyes open to find two concerned gold eyes staring back at her. "I'm fine…" she mumbled, pushing Illidan away. Her thoughts were trying to analyze what she had been hearing—or dreaming. The whole thing almost made sense. It was like she was spying on someone accidentally, and they knew she was there. Instead of immediately casting her out, they teased her, welcomed her, gave her a simple taste of their world.

"You just fell unconscious, Azhi, and you are trying to convince me that you are fine? Really?" Illidan ranted, pulling her into his lap and guarding her predatorily. "After you get over the daze, I am taking you home."

"You will not, and I'll make it an order if you protest," Azhi growled back. She sat up and shoved his arms from around her. She wanted to contact the people in her dream again. She needed to—she felt like they were just as much family as her own parents were.

"Seriously, Azhi? You'll order me?"

"I will. The dream you had. Describe it again, Illidan. _Now."_

"A little girl called me Iffidan, told me she'd met me, but not yet. And that I wouldn't be able to forget her once we did meet, though it seemed past-tense for her. She had a really guttural accent and a strange speech impediment that made all of her l's sound like f's. And she giggled a lot, and when she did, it was half-eerie, half-cute. Kinda like a bea—"

"So she acted like she was from the future. Because she was. And her name is Ziendra. And her mother's name is Zaeldra. And she has a little brother named Xavlen…but the father, I didn't get his name," Azhi stated. Illidan just stared at her blankly, waiting for more revelations to come and something about what she said to make sense.

Instead, Azhi stood up and pulled off her boots. Tossing them aside, she eased her feet into the shallow, pale blue waters of the moonwell. The sparkles fluttered up around her and teased her arms while the surrounding wisps began to hum an ancient tune. Azhi smiled and hummed along a few moments, then began to discern the tune. The _Song of Elune_ was always a favored melody of theirs, but today they sang something much darker.

"What are you thinking, Azhi?" Illidan asked, interrupting the song and her thoughts. She turned to him with a scowl but her face softened when she saw his genuine interest.

"I just don't recognize the song today, is all. And I am trying to figure out what it is."

"The…song? Song of who?"

"You don't hear the songs the wisps sing, Illidan?"

He shook his head slowly and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply to try and find the melody she spoke of. He heard crickets and toads and bugs buzzing around, but no song. Not unless you counted nature as a song, which many did. His brother was one of those people. Illidan shook his head again and opened his eyes. Startled by Azhi's face being just two inches from his he fell backwards.

"Maybe you're going deaf, then?" she giggled. He growled at her and tried to push her away, only knocking her just off balance enough to fall on top of him. The sudden contact winded them both, and Azhi went quiet and her face darkened in embarrassment.

Illidan blinked once, then again. His mind was teetering back and forth between wanting her to get off of him and wondering why she was making no effort to get off of him. Azhi sat up slowly, her legs astride him and smirked down at him through her blushing.

"I'm really throwing your chemistry out of whack, aren't I."

"Azhi, if your mother knew—if your father knew! Off! I don't want to die!" Illidan shouted, his face flushed worse than hers and his actions directly counteracting his words.

She laughed and obeyed, despite having the upper hand in the situation. "If my father knew, you wouldn't be worried about dying."

"No, no I wouldn't…have you seen what he does to people? Hell, did you see what he did to his own face?"

A quick slap across Illidan's cheek reminded him that family ties made things much more understandable and forgivable than the ties of apprentice to master, or citizen to leader.

"Sorry…I'm still not handling the fact that your father is a Satyr, and of all the Satyr to be, he is Xavius, Lord Counselor of Azshara. Though it really makes a lot more sense than her being with any…low rank guy, I guess."

"Is every conversation in this stupid world about who has what rank? The Kal'dorei hate the Quel'dorei, the Quel'dorei hate the Kal'dorei! We're all from the same stupid ancestry, some of us just look a little different and wield a little different magic than the others! We're just as equal as the trees and bushes!" Azhi scolded, slapping Illidan again with less emphasis. He sighed and rubbed his cheek, thankful she was wearing cloth gloves as opposed to mail. No mail also meant she really didn't intend to run away.

"Azhi, really…I'm just confused, is all. I'm not good at saying things—"

"Can you not just shut up or apologize and let it go, Illidan Stormrage?"

"I…no. I don't let go of things," he growled. And before he could get slapped again, he grabbed her hand gently and kissed her. "I can shut up though."

She pushed him away and turned back to the well, listening to the wisps change their tune. Suddenly it was happy and bouncy. The music was mirroring her internal emotions, it felt. "Illidan, things don't really make sense to me either…but it's about dusk and I want to go talk to Sky. You want to come?"

"Yeah, I'd love to, but I really don't feel like being glowered at by matrons and sitting on a wall outside while the two of you chitchat. So…I'll see you around?"

"Don't be having sex with Mal tonight. I'm coming over. You two still live in Suramar, ninth house down the main road, right?"

"That's the place. I'll be sure to tell him you're coming, so he can rant and rave about not having enough time to clean house," Illidan chuckled.

"And yet you're the bitch in the relationship," Azhi snickered back, whistling sharply and hopping onto her personal nightsaber. "Be around moon fall that I'll be there, tell him not to worry about being too fancy. "

Before Illidan could respond or argue, Azhi was fading into the distance headed towards the temple just a mile north of his house. Standing in a mild daze, he waved and turned to call his own nightsaber who had chewed through his leash and run off. Cursing loudly and frequently, he began walking home.

* * *

Skylari had gone outside as soon as the ritual was over, only talking to those who talked first and avoiding as many people as she possibly could. She wrung her hands over and over as she stared up at the moon, praying for guidance on what to do. Priestesses weren't required to be celibate, and they weren't required to avoid getting pregnant. However, during the training, they were not allowed to raise their children. Skylari knew that her sibling would be put up for adoption if her mother was accepted into the priesthood. And the deep, foreboding feeling in her stomach begged that the child be raised by a Kal'dorei, not a noble.

"What's up with the high priestess in training this lovely, cloudy evening?" a voice chirped from beside her. She couldn't help but smile as the Princess of the Night Elves threw her legs over the balcony and settled in, eyes set on the moon.

"She has a bit to think about. And what is going on with the Princess?"

"I got better, obviously, and ran away for a while. Mom is in one of her moods…well, really just _the mood_. I don't want to hear that sort of thing while I recover," Azhi explained. She noticed Skylari's face grow severe and bitter and gently reached out to take her hand.

"Apparently, Azhi, my own mother had those sentiments not too long ago…" she murmured in response. Azhi squeezed her hand gently and leaned her head on Sky's shoulder. A long moment passed and neither girl spoke until the clouds completely covered the moon, turning it into a bright hazy circle as opposed to the glorious symbol of their goddess.

"She came to the temple to become a priestess. And if they accept her, the child is to be sent elsewhere to be raised. With the current state of the Quel'dorei and their constant bickering…I'm not sure who I want to raise my younger sibling. Not that I have any real choice in the matter."

Azhi listened intently, understanding the concern and political unrest all too well. Before she got sick she remembered highborne vanishing, rumors going around about murder, torture, portals to dark realms, and power. Though she'd only been lucid two days at most, she could feel the anxiety from before steadily rising. "I'd take it in, if your mother would agree. My parents would be ornery about it, but I'd be willing to raise the child…"

"You're still a child yourself. Not even a choice, Azhi," Sky snapped, then quickly added, "But thank you for offering. It's a better plan than anything I've come up with. Maybe it's best you give me some space to process all that's going on…it's not right of me to snap at you because I'm uncertain."

Azhi smiled and nodded, quickly hugging Sky and standing up on the edge of the balcony. "I'll see you—"

She slipped, dizzy from the quick stand and still exhausted from being ill. The fall was five stories down and Azhi reached the bottom in four seconds. The murmurs around her seemed cheerful and peaceful, the warmth flooding around her head relaxing. Her eyes flickered back and forth between open and shut as she tried to figure out where she was. Giving up and deciding the best thing she could do was get some rest, Princess Azshiri slipped into a coma.


	11. Disgust and Deception

***_Author's notes: This chapter is a bit grotesque and somewhat disturbing at the end, and it may be a bit vague as to what is going on, however, I think it is clear enough to keep going without overdoing detail. The next chapter will explain more about the Living Stone people and touch on more of Azhi's young childhood. It will also have those crazy twin guys back and more Xavius, along with some more details on where the Legion fits into any of this. Same Disclaimers apply, and forgive me for not updating as often, but I am insanely busy with school right now. Only a few more weeks and then I can really get to working on more frequent updates! ***_

Xavius wasn't about to say he disliked the Queen's attention but he had a nagging feeling that didn't involve her lips or hands. Granted, he had several that involved both.

"Azshara…" he mumbled, his tongue more interested in hers than speaking. "Something bad is wrong...get off me a moment."

"Something is wrong?" she quipped, releasing him and staring down at him like a hurt puppy needing confirmation that it wasn't an evil creature. He smiled gently up at her and stroked a few strands of hair from in front of her golden eyes before sitting up and easing her to his side.

After searching the room and using his magic to sense, he nodded firmly. "Azshiri. Something is extremely wrong with Azshiri."

Azshara frowned deeply. She shoved all the guilt that she might have felt had she admitted the reason their daughter wasn't sitting and talking with them was due to her own lust. And she found several safe outlets to dump her anger and blame, namely the handmaidens who let her get away, and the guards who didn't see past her antics. Xavius caught a little, for being so slack as to not have intensified the guard around her room. All Azshara knew was that her daughter was in grave danger and that everyone was to blame. Everyone but herself.

"Where?"

"I have no idea, but I'm going to find out. You should get dressed and consider doing the same. After all, the people don't know she's _my _daughter as well."

"Xavius. What type of wrong is—"

A loud pounding on the door and frantic, heavy breathing on the other side indicated just what type of wrong. Xavius looked to Azshara inquisitively for a moment, then opened the door.

"Lord Counselor Xavius, My Lady Light, Princess Azshiri has fallen from a balcony and been taken into the temple for healing…her skull was cracked and her left arm broken…several ribs as well, she's still unconscious, but they expect her to recover…"

Before the messenger could continue, both Xavius and Azshara had portaled to the temple. And so he stood, staring at the floor which had several layers of Azshara's clothing crumpled together. Slowly he began to put the pieces together.

This room was one of Azshara's most personal chambers. This room was her dressing room. This room had only Xavius and Azshara in it when he had arrived. Both of them were flushed and sweating. The door had been locked from the inside, and instead of the Queen answering, Xavius, her dear Lord Counselor, had.

There had been no sign of a struggle, and she had been clothed—or at least she appeared clothed. The concern for the princess had been mutual and familial in both of them.

He had interrupted Azshara and Xavius having sex. And discovered who Azshiri's father was.

Fristel ran his fingers through his choppy brown hair as he determined what he would do with the information he had just found. A moment or two passed before he made his decision. He would report to Captain Varo'then with his findings.

* * *

"The hell did you let her fall for, you wretch!" Xavius shouted, his anger directed at High Priestess Benaira. Her smile was tight and weary, but her patience remained as the Satyr in front of her began to pace back and forth.

"If she dies, bitch, you have no idea the pain you'll suffer, and your stupid goddess won't be able to do shit for you."

"Lord Counselor, do hold your tongue and do not blaspheme Elune," Azshara stated calmly. She then bowed her head to a statue of Elune almost apologetically before turning back to the Priestess. Benaira was even more unnerved by the Queen's display of respect and control.

"My dear High Priestess, forgive his lack of respect. He is, much like I, upset about the occurrence here, however, he lacks self-control and honor for the Goddess," she explained too politely. Benaira winced openly. If there was anything in the world to fear, it was Azshara. And the reason she was to be feared was because of the impossibility to distinguish her good intentions from the bad ones. And even if you could tell which was which, Azshara could change it at will. She was the Queen.

"My…My Lady Light, Queen Azshara, I assure you Princess Azshiri is well," she stammered, stopping short of what she was going to say because of a perfect smile.

"Please, Priestess, Call me Azshara. There is no need for formalities when we are working towards the same goal."

Benaira wanted to run away. She prayed for strength from Elune and a swift, painless death to follow. To think of Azshara as an equal felt like a sin. A crime against the Kal'dorei. To act towards Azshara as an equal was humbling, humiliating, and painful. It was also wrong, as Azshara was nowhere near as lowly as the High Priestess of the Moon.

"My dear friend," Azshara cooed, "I think it is time that you show me to my daughter."

The priestess's strength fluttered away on wings of something warm. Her loyalty to Elune melted into a bubbly goop that settled in the center of her abdomen. The pain, however, was unnoticed as Azshara and her aura nullified anything that wasn't pleasant.

They walked quietly down the corridor—really a paved area in the wild with columns along the sides—until they came to a room that rivaled the decoration of Elune's altar. Azshara smiled, pleased that her daughter was getting the royal treatment even in the fanatical priestesses' humble temple. Upon reaching the archway, Benaira seemed to fall out of her stupor. Her wrinkled face went solemn and she stood slightly in front of Xavius and Azshara.

"I think it important for me to tell the two of you, or at least, offer a warning to you," she stated, afraid of being cut off again. Azshara motioned for her to continue, still smiling gently. "Only one of our priestesses has managed to go in and come out. The rest have been turned into living stone."

"And who is the priestess that got out alive?" Xavius asked, almost genuinely curious. Benaira looked at him, trying to read his expression before revealing any names. Her efforts were in vain; his obsidian orbs for eyes and solid, cold face gave no hint of compassion or revulsion.

"Her name is Skylari Whisperwind, Lord Counselor."

"Whisperwind…" Xavius muttered to no one in particular. A moment of his mumbling passed before Azshara interrupted by gently placing her hand on his shoulder. He nodded to her then turned and left the temple through a portal—a strictly forbidden practice for any of the priestesses.

"Elune must truly favor her, then," Azshara said. Benaira nodded and turned towards the room, fear flickering over her face as she saw several of her closest friends frozen in place. Her own sister stood holding a cloth and water bowl, leaning over with her eyes half-closed and a sweet smile on her face. She looked like she was still serving the Princess and at any time would straighten her back and continue with her duties. Though Benaira prayed she would, the fact that her sister had been standing in the same position for sixteen hours dimmed her hope.

"Do lead the way, High Priestess," Azshara demanded with a soft, strong tone. With one final prayer for safety or swift death, Benaira entered the room followed closely by the Queen. Releasing a gentle sigh that she had survived walking in, her fingers began to grow stiff.

"Now, now, Azshiri, the priestess has been begging for swift disposal, not some arthritic overdose. Do not dishonor her wishes, as it is not polite to your hostess," Azshara cooed, brushing Azhi's hair from her face.

Benaira's eyes went wide in terror and her hand clasped over her mouth. Her feet had begun to move back towards the door and partially pivoted to flee. Azshara watched her with an amused face and then clicked her tongue. "Such a horrible way to be preserved…forever a statue carved in cowardice. A pity, really."

Benaira Shadowleaf, High Priestess of the Moon, never moved again.

* * *

Fristel sipped the last of his rum and waited for Varo'then to finish his fifth pint of lager. He'd already shared the news of who Princess Azshiri's father was. Varo'then had laughed coldly and given the Lord Counselor names more fitting of a half-elf, half-horse than Azshara had shared. Bastard-mule was the Moon Guard's favorite during this drunken gathering.

"An' you come to tell me Queen Azshara, glorious Light of Lights, leader of Zin'Azshari, 'as a kid with 'at bastard mule an' kept it? Damned mutt 'ad to 'ave raped 'er, possessed 'er, beaten 'er in a game an' taken advantage, eh?"

"I do. And from what I gathered, he plans to do it again, or was doing it again," Fristel replied calmly. He slammed his mug onto the bar and waved the barmaid over to fill it up again. He was one of the best casters the Moon Guard had to offer and, not coincidentally, one of the youngest, most attractive men in the entire kingdom. His hair was short and dark blond, the tips died cherry and black. He was a tall elf with his ears more upright than the Kal'dorei, but less than the Quel'dorei. Fristel's skin was a mix of the commoner purple and the Highborne peach.

Varo'then, Captain of the guard, threw his head back and cackled. "Well boys, we 'ave one choice. Spread the word, get the message out, and then we'll take the 'dearest Lord Counselor' out of the picture."

Several cheers turned into excited and fanatical shouting as the Moon Guard began to plot thousands of ways to get Xavius out of their way. One particularly excited young man lifted up his mug to toast to Varo'then's good health but as he opened his mouth it spewed worms, not words. The gurgling horror and flailing caused him to crash into the barmaid, who shrieked upon the sight. Still in a drunken stupor, Varo'then laughed and pointed at the choking boy.

"And that, boys, is why you should watch what you drink and order what you can hold!"

By this time another of the Guard was coughing up maggots, another locusts, and another gagging on a rat that had clawed its way up from his gut.

"Cap'n…I think somethin' a bit fishy is goin' on…"

"Don't say fish!" the hostess yelled before running to her office and burying her head in her pillow. A soft, amused chuckle came from the shadows just behind Fristel, who smiled and sipped his third mug quietly as the panic overtook the rest of the bar.

"I had thought there would be a bit of unrest if the information spread about. I had no idea it would be fueled by jealousy opposed to curiosity, Lord Xavius. I should have analyzed to whom I spoke and their lower brain functions before I mentioned simple truths."

"Captain Varo'then is a man that thinks with his stomach, penis, or emotions, never his brain. I do believe I owe you a favor for finding those who would go against Queen Azshara's personal will."

"A favor with punishment, no doubt," Fristel replied, chugging the remainder of his booze before turning to face the Lord Counselor.

Xavius nodded slowly as the creatures he had cursed into the Moon Guard began to turn and eat their hosts. "Had the situation been different, I am sure you would have consulted me before acting."

"Of course. Had it not been for you, my rank as Lieutenant of the Moon Guard would have never come to be. Where you saw talent, he saw threat. My only true interests in life are living for the Queen and attaining the greatest power I can while doing so."

Xavius chuckled quietly and motioned to the door. "If you will do anything to live for the Queen, and anything to attain power, Fristel Windsong, you will meet me by the Well an hour after dawn."

"Consider me there already, Lord Counselor."

Noting the barmaid's terror, Xavius had the keg pour him a glass of lager and settled into a chair just out of Varo'then's gasping, gagging reach. The Captain began to spit up tiny chunks of flesh that could only be identified as his internal organs. With a sudden, desperate lunge, Varo'then's landed just next to Xavius' left hoof.

"Now, now, Captain, don't cry, it's beneath you. Azshara forbid you degrade yourself in your final moments."

"…monster…" Varo'then chortled, his coughing becoming more frantic. Xavius did not reply for a moment, chugging his drink and having another glass poured. As Captain Varo'then began to wheeze and his consciousness fade, Xavius lifted his glass in a toast, almost as an afterthought to the horror he had unleashed.

"Three cheers to those who think they deserve power but have no will or ability to take it."


	12. Regrets and ReflectionsInside and Out

_Authorly notes: Same disclaimers as usual. Also, many shoes are thrown, deep conversations about strange things arise, and we get to know some more about two of my favorite characters that aren't WoW lore based. Zaeldra and Skylari. Also, this one is a bit long, but do enjoy it, as I think it covers a lot of bases and sets up where we're headed next! _

After at least thirty minutes of walking, Illidan finally reached his house. Sitting on the front porch, which looked more like a tree stump, was his twin with a bitter, cold face.

"Hey, what's up…?" Illidan asked, settling on the edge of the porch. He pulled off his shoes and began to massage the soles of his feet.

"Skylari rushed over…Azhi fell off the balcony of the temple. She's not dead, but about 19 priestesses were turned into stone. Sky is upset…"

"Azhi didn't have time to fall off a balcony! I was just with her!" Illidan shouted, slamming his leather boot into the ground.

"She fell off about two hours ago. You've been gone about four…" Malfurion replied. After letting a heavy sigh escape his lips, he added, "Sky is going to sleep in my room today, if I could stay with you in yours."

Illidan growled and threw his shoe, barely missing the priestess who had come to greet him. "I'm going to the Temple to see if I—"

"Azshara is at the Temple. I highly doubt anyone wants to be there…even Elune," Skylari whispered. She picked Illidan's shoe up and tossed it to him. "And you should patch up this thing. It looks like you've been walking miles."

"I have," Illidan retorted, snatching the shoe and storming up to his room. Malfurion sighed heavily and looked to Skylari with a sympathetic look.

"He's more stressed than usual, and his self-importance has been over validated here recently. That and what happened to Azhi…"

Skylari scoffed but quickly turned her frustration into a compassionate nod, masking what she really felt. Mal noticed the façade but didn't mention it. He was used to people covering up their true feelings in order to look stronger—his twin had perfected the art.

"I understand what happened to the Princess is tragic, Mal, I really do. But can we please, please, please just go ten minutes without talking about her?"

Malfurion took in a deep breath. Sky wanted attention. Sky detested Azhi's popularity unto the point that when she came over with the news, he had suspected that Azhi's fall wasn't an accident. Azhi was a natural at getting attention, in fact. Her mother, the queen, could captivate the world with a smile. But Sky only got attention when she asked for it. And Sky refused to ask for it; instead, she preferred to act out in strange, often dangerous ways.

"Sky, for the past hour you were here we didn't talk about her. If you expect me to not tell Illidan that his best friend and crush fell off a balcony—"

"You are accusing me of pushing her!"

"I am not! What the hell is wrong with you, Sky!"

"You are what's wrong with me! You don't give a damn about me! You're all conceited idiots!" she hissed, running out of the house.

Mal sighed heavily and sat down, pulling the front door shut before he settled. His thoughts were jaded. For a long time he had liked Skylari as a mate. Or a potential one, at least. Lately she had been nearly unbearable. Her grand entrance to the house had even been different. She didn't scale the wall to crawl in the window. She used the door. And her conversation starter had been 'Hey Mal, my mom came back to the temple, and she's pregnant. Oh yeah, the stupid princess decided to go skydiving from the balcony. Maybe she'll get some sense or just not wake up this time.'

But this behavior was beyond weird. This was unheard of for Skylari. Not just unheard of, but it could get her removed from the Sisterhood of Elune and banished from Kalimdor. Shy was being different for some other reason. The stress of her mother's return wasn't a good enough reason. The pain of being put up for adoption, opening up doors to the past, or interacting with those who had a tendency to get on people's nerves weren't enough reason. All of the hellish events going on including Queen Azshara waltzing into the temple unannounced wouldn't make Sky wish Azhi dead. They bickered, yes, but they had been best friends for all of Azhi's life.

"Illidan, quit skulking and come down here," Malfurion stated softly, knowing his twin was reading his thoughts more than listening to him.

_You think Sky pushed Azhi? And you think Sky is being controlled by some exterior force?_

"Come. Here. We'll talk about it. There are other things we have to talk about too…"

A loud thud, louder cursing, and the shuffle of bare feet down the hall came as response. Malfurion motioned for Illidan to sit next to him and sighed once more. Illidan grabbed a cup of tea and sipped it, staring at Mal over the dish. "What's up?"

"Last night…it was, well…I'm not trying to say it was a bad thing but, well, it's just…if anyone finds out, Illidan, they're going to slaughter us both."

* * *

Skylari ran her hands through her long white hair, pulling it out of the tiara, silver chains, and silver tie.

"Why…why did I just blow up like that?" she shrieked suddenly. Her pale blue eyes squeezed tight and she sunk her teeth into her lower lip. The hand that had been running through her hair tightly clutched a chunk and threatened to rip it out.

"_Calm down, little one…calm down…"_

"No! Nothing about this is calm! I just shoved my best friend off a balcony and you are telling me to be calm! Idiots! Idiots!"

"_Of course, of course, of course. You're upset, yes. I understand why, but she was a threat to you. She was a threat! A big threat. She could have taken your power from you. Now she won't though, no…now she won't stand in your way. She'll never wake up, now you can take what you deserve."_

"No! I want Azhi to get better!" Skylari screamed back at the voice. The winds whistled around her, slamming her into the ground. Her hands clasped over her mouth which was now bleeding. Small chunks of dirt began to rip from the ground and tear into her skin.

"_You will listen. You will listen. You will. Listen."_

In her terror and realization that other forces were controlling her, not her own will, Skylari clutched her moon pendant firmly in her hand, the two edges of the crescent digging into her palm, and prayed that Elune would forgive her failures and end her misery quickly. A dim light flickered down to her and the winds cut off.

Skylari collapsed onto her hands and knees, thanking Elune for the mercy she had been shown. Too tired to call for help and too hoarse to try, Sky eased the rest of her body to the ground. She pulled her knees up to her chest and shivered.

* * *

The shimmering ground twirled gently around her heels as she walked, her focus on a single figure just a bit in the distance. She wasn't in pain here, her eyes didn't feel sunken, she didn't feel fevered, she didn't feel nausea. And there was no one here who would push her or fail to catch her when she fell—there was nowhere to fall. The deep, bluish-red figure sitting just beyond the horizon captured her full attention and she intended to catch up to it. _It _was familiar, almost like she had found her reflection in her mother's mirrors and could interact in a new way.

She almost knew her own name, and she almost knew her mother's name, but she couldn't quite place it. The words she had known to speak all seemed jumbled on her tongue. The only answer she had, albeit, the only answer she wanted was the figure growing larger and closer. The pale blue lights flickered back and forth, shifting to a sandy tone, becoming specks opposed to glimmers. Her feet still sunk into the ground but it was much like walking on the banks of the Well. Sandy, silky, and splashes of water over her toes.

"_You shouldn't be here, Azshiri."_

"Azshiri…call me Azhi. And why not? If I am here, then I should be here."

"_Fair enough, Azhi,_" it stated, tasting her name and favoring the flavor. Azhi had almost reached the figure, her goal, the person who held all the answers when it turned towards her. _"But why have you come?"_

Azhi stammered a moment, watching the shape turn into an even more familiar form. It was female, and it was twisting into existence from sand made of magic."I have…no idea. I'm here because I found myself here, and I don't know where else to be."

"_So confused, just like always…"_ the woman cooed. She ran her fingers over Azhi's forehead gently, smiling and beginning to take a more distinct shape. Azhi stepped back, shocked by the solidity of the fingers toying with her hair.

"I…who are you?" Azhi managed to say with some confidence. The lady laughed gently and released the lock of hair. Her shaping had been slow to begin with, gradually speeding up with Azhi's curiosity. Now, the change had stopped and the woman held out her hand, palm upturned.

"_When you were six months old, you grew incredibly ill. Your parents had trouble treating you and your father and mother, Xavius and Azshara, called on help from Elune. Kind as Elune is, she granted you as much healing as a goddess can through feeble mortals. However, the illness was not completely annihilated without having a check in place…being an Eredar, a race concerned with the fates of other worlds, I offered my humble assistance to keep you alive. As was planned, I was planted inside of you to counteract the sickness. After all, the Kal'dorei are immortal, aren't they?"_

Azhi shook her head slightly, trying to absorb and reject the information all at once. She only achieved greater confusion. "If I can't get sick anymore, why did I just now get over being sick!"

Another laugh, still calm and compassionate, frustrated Azhi even more and she slapped the form. To her surprise, the creature caught her wrist and pushed it back at her.

"_Perhaps, Azshiri, you should consider your opponent before you attack. And perhaps, just perhaps, you should be grateful to me that you are once again not dead. And just a side note, your primitive people, the elves, should learn about gravity. Little princesses can't fly, even with a good push."_

"Sky didn't push me! She wouldn't!" Azhi screamed, trying to free her arm from the girl's grasp. The woman simply shook her head twice, then tightened her grip.

"_Azhi, calm down. You're right, okay? Skylari did not push you…but please, listen to me."_

Validation of her statements and emotions did, in fact, calm Azhi down. "Okay…okay…who are you? Other than my doctor?"

"_My name is Zaeldra Ul'diamos. I am from Argus. Though there is quite a deal to gain from you for my people on a personal level…I have found myself fond of you. I wish to preserve you now not because of oaths or promises made, but instead because I enjoy you as a person. I want Azhi to exist for Azhi…" _ the woman replied. She smiled gently and turned away as her full form and intricately woven wardrobe appeared.

Zaeldra wore long robes that were slit down the sides, showing off her perfectly toned and smooth red skin. The robes were golden with red and black trim, cut low to show off her cleavage, though her chest wasn't extremely large. Her body shape was odd to Azhi, but not foreign. Zaeldra was shaped much like her father; digitigrade legs with hooves, a tail, two horns, claws on her fingers, and a fondness for jewelry. Unlike her father, Zaeldra had no fur and her hair was parted around her horns. The horns and tail were shorter; the horns rolling back and down as opposed to sticking straight up, and the tail lacking a furry tip.

It seemed that Zaeldra had bands of gold on every part of her body gold could be wrapped, and not just one, but many. Her tail had seven distinct gold bands with smaller chains connecting them and intricately carved patterns. She wore five amulets with five distinctly set gems; Onyx, Ruby, Emerald, Sapphire, and Topaz. The sapphire dangled the lowest, accenting the little cleavage that was there. The rest seemed to hang wherever they fell—the blue gem obviously held a personal meaning to her.

The last detail Azhi found intriguing about Zaeldra was her skin. Tons of tiny, golden freckles dotted her rich red skin, more obvious on her cheeks and bare shoulders.

"_You've no questions…? I find that odd for you," _ Zaeldra whispered softly. Azhi then noticed the exotic and beautiful accent and smiled.

"I'm trying to figure you out, actually…where is Argus? I've never heard about it, read about it, or seen it on our maps."

"Argus is gone," Zaeldra stated coldly, turning back to Azhi and forcing a smile. Her voice was no longer distant or ethereal. She and Azhi stood in the same plane, face to face.

"I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't know that any of our places had—"

"Argus belongs to the Eredar, not the Night Elves, not the Queen, and not the forsaken reaches of this planet. And it does not belong to fallible titans, either."

"Argus…is another planet?"

Zaeldra nodded shortly, then added, "At least, she was."

"What happened?" Azhi asked, trying not to let her curiosity mask her sympathy. Zaeldra caught Azhi's chin and looked her in the eyes.

"Sargeras. Sargeras happened. And he blames us, chastises us for being his downfall, then places us on pedestals for helping him achieve domination over all other worlds. He brings chaos with his breath, destruction in his fingers, and disorder, hatred, wrath, fury, unending death…that is what he leaves in his wake. Argus would still exist had Sargeras never come to be. Argus would still exist if Sargeras hadn't locked us away. If he had seen us as we are, not as his reflection, the universe itself would even be a better place! Can you not feel that? Can you not find that inside of you, Princess?"

Azhi blinked several times and pulled away from Zaeldra, confused, but little more. "I'm not from Argus, and I don't know a Sargeras, so I suppose I can't find any of that…and I'm sorry I can't relate."

Zaeldra smirked and then turned around, sands whipping up around her. "Sargeras killed you once. I saved you. Sargeras ripped your father's lower half off and morphed him into the first Satyr. Sargeras ripped Illidan's eyes out with fel fires and enchanted his body to serve only the Legion's cause. Sargeras convinced your mother that only he would be a suitable mate, and that your death could be avenged if he were released into Kalimdor. He almost got in, but Malfurion and Illidan and a priestess yet to be born stopped him. He indirectly caused your father to die, your mother to be reduced to a sea snake with sentience, and your people to be shredded by politics, beliefs on magic, and the Sundering, in which your beloved little chunk of rock exploded into shreds. Sargeras and the Old Gods here corrupted a noble dragon, causing him to attack the very people he loved most in order to preserve himself. Sargeras turned Skylari into a mindless slave." Zaeldra took a breath, careful not to make eye contact with the princess beside her. "I could go on for hours on what Sargeras has done, in the name of chaos, in the name of mindless annihilation of the peoples he finds an abomination to the creation the Titans originally made. But…it no longer is that way."

Azhi couldn't speak. Her heart had begun to pound harder and harder with Zaeldra's seemingly unending knowledge of her life. Zaeldra spoke of things Azhi didn't know about her own life in a factual, comfortable tone. In fact, the sound of her voice held no hint of mockery or proud victory. It was simply stating things Zaeldra knew to be true.

After several moments, the two of them standing and staring over the empty, blue-white plane, Azhi managed to catch her breath and thoughts enough to speak. "It…changed?"

"Certain parts. Your mother will never become a Naga, Kalimdor will never be torn asunder by frivolous fights over magic, and none of your people are trying to blindly summon a Titan into their backyard pond."

"What about Illidan? And Sky? And my dad, is he going to die?"

"Such a personal girl you are…" Zaeldra commented. It felt like hours passed before she spoke again. The sands around her seemed directed, and the way her eyes fluttered and flickered made it look like she was reading the tiny specks for hints as to what her response should be.

"Your father is not doomed this time. Skylari is currently suffering things that I can't explain easily, and Illidan, though he won't have his eyes burnt out in your mother's palace, will indeed suffer that fate again. Not as a traitor, no…not this time around. And now, Azhi…you need to go home."

"I will in a bit—"

"Now, Azshiri."

And as quickly as she had fallen from the balcony, she woke up to see her mother stroking her forehead.

* * *

"You certainly do wish I had killed you, don't you," Xavius whispered, twisting the dagger around in his hands, careful not to touch the blade. "But Captain, Azshara is so very fond of you; I'd hate to upset her."

Varo'then growled in reply, unable to do anything else. He had been chained to the wall with tiny threads of arcane magic, beaten after puking out half of his liver, his mind flayed in four different ways, and his consciousness returned slowly, so that he would have to inhale the ingredients of the potions brewing around him. A thick, black strip of leather had been tightly tied around his jaw, making speech impossible and his further vomiting a new, gruesome form of nutrition.

Just inside the entrance, Fristel stood, watching Varo'then with a smirk. The Captain of the Moon Guard shuddered, further amusing his Satyr captor. "Is he so frightening? That he came to me, figured out who Princess Azshiri's parents were, came to tell you, sent me an arcane message that you'd likely find reasons to have me removed from office, and took the side of the one with the power? Is that so frightening, Varo'then, that just beneath your very nose lay people that would gladly have you removed from office as well?"

Varo'then shook his head as firmly as he could. Fristel laughed shortly, then walked to the pair of them. "I think, Lord Counselor, the most amusing part of this is the heroic antics he planned. That Azshara somehow didn't know she had become pregnant, or that she didn't understand the cause and effect of sex."

Xavius frowned a moment, then turned his gaze on the young elf beside him. "And while I find this stupidity of his cute, I think you've said more than enough on Azshara's sex life."

Fristel backed up several steps and bowed, biting his lip as he stood. He had heard that Xavius was not one to be crossed for years, and in the past seven hours he had seen it. To insult both the Satyr and the Queen would likely land him in a worse fate than Varo'then—Fristel was now known as a traitor. His places of power were tentative, though he was only doing what he could to ascend the ranks.

Xavius placed the blade of the dagger on Varo'then's chest, barely cutting the skin. Varo'then shrieked and his eyes poured tears tinted with blood. "Now, now, let's not get too excited yet. I haven't even drawn blood."

The Satyr, despite his cool, harsh composure, was always reluctant to stab people with the dagger he had been 'gifted' by Sargeras. He knew the agony they went through. He had felt it ten times harsher. He remembered how Sargeras had cut off each of his toes, then each of his fingers, joint by joint. He could still feel his skin melting off slowly, his soul being jerked from side to side, his arms dangling helplessly at his sides. He remembered the pain of hundreds of broken bones jutting into his nerves and skin, and the fires lit inside to double, then triple, then quadruple the pains he could sense. Xavius remembered seeing his intestines pulled out and shoved back in. It felt almost wrong to bring about the change on other people.

Almost.

But as Varo'then quivered and made gurgled attempts at screaming, Xavius knew he had made the right decision. Pulling the dagger out before it could sever anything important—Varo'then's intestines would surely grow back together—Xavius took a short step back and watched silently. Then, with almost a compassionate smile he removed the gag, letting the screams fill the air.


End file.
